The finish chapter to this story is under the name The Stark

This will be where I will post my rough drafts. I have a learning disability but I have ideas for stories and enjoy sharing my ideas so please be patient with my mistakes. I use a text to voice app so I can listen to what I have written. Which will help me fix errors and I can delete and add more content.

SO SPOILER ALERT

CH 16 draft

As the moonlight streamed through the window of my ship, casting a soft glow on the room, I took a sip of the steaming hot cocoa, its warmth providing comfort amidst the late-night meeting. Surrounding me were my trusted officers, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Together, we huddled over the newly crafted maps that were made during the day as we hovered over the city. I moved a miniature silver cube with a wolf head embossed on it, representing my elite special forces, to the outline of a Villa, the rumored house of the newly elevated Xaro Xhoan Daxos. I had gathered this information from my captured prisoners.

As we discussed strategies and tactics, I listened intently to the suggestions of my officers. Their collective expertise and insights proved invaluable, and I eagerly incorporated their ideas into our plans for the imminent invasion. We debated the best approach to seize control of the city, weighing the potential risks and rewards. But our discussions didn't stop there. In the midst of our tactical deliberations, we also explored the intricacies of governance, contemplating how to establish order and stability.

I was engrossed in the strategy when my uncle Benjen abruptly interrupted me, his voice laden with urgency. "Nephew, I need to speak to you in private." Looking at him, and then back at my men, I dismiss them, turning my attention solely to Uncle Benjen. Before he could say anything, we were joined moments later by Uncle Ned. "It's about Brandon, Lyanna's son," Benjen said, his tone heavy with concern.

I had spent the day avoiding meeting with Lyanna, for the memories of our past encounters were a bitter pill to swallow. The mere thought of her stirred an irritating sense of betrayal deep within my being, I had gone to great lengths to protect her. I had risked much for her sake, even offering her son a position of importance within my realm, under my protection. I told her that I would legitimize him and name him a Stark. But instead of gratitude, she had chosen to flee, leaving me feeling disrespected and deceived.

I looked at him, puzzled, assuming he was about to tell me that Brandon had been sold into slavery, something I had already suspected. But Benjen, stealing a glance at Ned, continued, "When Lyanna was sold to her master, he purchased Brandon as well, but then sold him to the House of the Undying."

My face blanked as I could feel anger bubbling within me. Over the years, I have collected, and read multiple tomes with knowledge about magical societies, as well as anything to do with the arcane knowledge.

I had spent countless hours researching and studying the ancient texts, hoping to uncover the mysteries surrounding the warlocks. Still, I maintained my blank face, masking the turmoil within me. Ned's inquiry caught me off guard, his voice laced with curiosity. "Leon, you always seem to know what's going on," he said, his eyes searching mine for answers. "And I know you have studied books about the warlocks. What do you know about this House of the Undying? Why would they want Lyanna's son?"

I had to admit that I have grown weary of Ned, his time in the Eyrie, and then in Kings Landing seems to have made him closer to southern culture then the north. In his eyes, I don't see the wonders of magic as a blessing as a proper northern should, but something to be wary of. Despite my reservations, I took a deep breath and prepared to share the secrets I had uncovered, knowing that the likely fate of Brandon was not pleasant.

"Brandon," I said, beginning to twirl a coin between my fingers, "has the ancient blood of House Stark intertwining with House Targaryen." I gazed at my listeners, their curiosity piqued, and I posed a question. "Have you ever heard the age-old adage that proclaims magic in kings' blood?" "It is mostly nonsense, but there is some truth in it." Uncle Ned, with a confused expression, shook his head in the negative, while Uncle Benjen nodded.

"You see," I continued, "throughout history, many ancient ruling families possessed a connection to the mystical arts." Lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I absently tapped the coin against my arm rest, its metallic surface gleaming brilliantly under the illumination of the light. " It was said that the warlocks, after the devastating Doom of Valyria, sought to harness the magic of the captured Valyrian bloodlines through dark rituals, extracting life energy from them."

"

Benjen and Uncle Ned exchanged horrified glances at the mere suggestion of Brandon being sacrificed by the House of the Undying. Letting out a heavy sigh, I absentmindedly fiddled with the coin in my hand as I cautiously spoke up. "There's a small glimmer of hope that Brandon might still be alive," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "I haven't been able to uncover much information since the warlocks keep their practices shrouded in secrecy. But some texts suggest that they occasionally keep individuals with magical abilities alive, using them as a source of energy throughout their lifetimes." I grimaced at the grotesque thought but continued, "As horrendous as it sounds, it might just be our chance to save him."

As I stood up, letting my blank mask fall for a second, my voice dripped with a repulsive hatred that manifested in every word I uttered. "I had always planned on coming to Qarth," I confessed, my voice laced with venom, "to annihilate the blight which is the House of the Undying." The mere thought of those warlocks sent hot rage down my chest; "their existence is an abomination that needs to be eradicated." "They pollute magic itself," As we were engrossed in our conversation, Lyanna suddenly burst into the room, her presence both surprising and annoying. Her eyes were filled with a mix of emotions - fear, guilt, desperation and hope.

000

Bluish vapor billowed from my floating ship, casting an eerie spell over the city. The air carried a subtle scent of cinnamon, the only hint at the impending chaos that would soon unfold. It spread like a suffocating blanket, engulfing the sprawling villas of the ruling family. Though our supply was limited, even a mere whiff of the vapor would render them dizzy and nauseous.

As the malevolent blue mist spread through the rest of the city, its tendrils snaking through the streets, it infiltrated the very essence of its unsuspecting inhabitants. Every breath they took, a poisonous kiss from the darkness. I knew our creation was not potent enough to render every soul in the city helpless, but even a mere taste of its would bring forth a relentless onslaught of vertigo and nausea.

From my vantage point high above the chaos, aboard my ship, I reveled in the discord below. The symphony of fear and panic, like a crescendo of terror echoing through the night

We patiently bided our time, allowing thirty minutes to pass as we waited for the haze to dissipate. After the gas was distributed, the ship descended from the sky and landed in the vast expanse of sand dunes surrounding the city. The moment had finally arrived, and I eagerly stepped forward to lead my highly trained group of two thousand five hundred troops. All of them were wearing full plate-armor.

As we disembarked from the ship, the intensity in the air was palpable. The soldiers, donned in their impenetrable armor, radiated a sense of excitement and anticipation. With every step, the sand beneath our boots seemed to tremble. The city lay before us, its towering structures and fortified walls seemingly impenetrable.

With my soldiers by my side, we marched forward, our footsteps echoing like thunder in the still night. I had chosen a different section of the wall from when I originally snuck into the city. I commanded the elements, bending earth and stone to my will. With a flick of my wrist, the ground quaked, and a deep trench was carved, revealing the bedrock beneath.

My mastery in transfiguration shone through as I molded the very fabric of reality. The walls shifted, twisted, and reshaped, forming a pathway that led us through the three ringed segmented walls that circled the city.

As I led my men towards the center, where the ruling families lived, we ran across a group of the Civic Guard, with their pathetic bronze armor. They were feeble and disoriented and had succumbed to the intoxicating blue vapors I had unleashed into their midst. Their feeble attempts to hold their long lances and trying to clutch their round shields, were nothing more than futile gestures. I surveyed the scene with a cold, calculated gaze as I watched them struggle to steady their shields and suppress the trembling of their drugged muscles.

With my command, my men advanced and with practiced ease our spears pierced through their feeble armor and uncoordinated defense, shattering their resistance. The sound of steel penetrating metal and flesh, followed by the screams of the dying echoed through the air. As we swiftly rolled over them, leaving nothing but blood stained streets, broken corpses in our wake.

000

I have issued a command that my men have been instructed to ransack every single home in this wretched city. The freemen from each household shall be bound and chained outside their dwelling to be judged. If they resist, they are to be dragged outside and beheaded as an example for their disobedience and defiance. From the ruling families two shall be spared, while the remaining shall face swift execution.

Yet, my insufferable Uncle Ned dares to challenge my authority and question the righteousness of my decree! He incessantly badgers me, imploring that it is unjust to sentence innocent men, women and children to death. Looking at him. Uncle Benjen, on the other hand, remains silent, concealing his true thoughts on the matter. His lack of objection is an attempt to appease me, yet I see through his facade.

In a rare moment of weakness, I have decided to compromise with Uncle Ned, for he is family after all. All the ruling family adults will die, but their children aged 13 and younger shall be spared from the executioner's grasp. Instead, the boys shall be handed over to the Night's Watch, and toil away their days in the frigid, desolate confines of the Wall.

I looked out from a balcony, situated in a building that the ruling council ran the city from . I watched the sun rise above the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the land, the sky transformed into a breathtaking canvas of crimson hues. The deep red tones reflected upon the vast expanse of desert sands, giving them reminiscent of blood. In the stillness of the morning, the ancient city of Qarth now lay under my dominion, its people trembling at the consequences of their transgressions toward me. My thoughts turn to the House of the Undying.

Before we had left the ship, I stood before my troops, ensuring that each group of soldiers understood the gravity of my orders about the House of Undying. I emphasized the importance of our mission but also made sure they understood the warning about the warlocks. "Listen closely, my comrades," I began, addressing every soldier, amplifying my voice, so they could hear me. "Under no circumstances should you venture into the treacherous house of the undying!" "Be vigilant!" I urged them, my voice booming like thunder. "If you come across any wretched souls with unnaturally blue lips, sound the alarm immediately!" I cautioned them, fully aware of the cunning and illusionary abilities of our adversaries. "Beware, my friends, for these tricksters will test your mettle. Do not allow their deceit to ensnare you!"

Fortunately the warlocks have chosen to remain within their dark abode I had my man create a makeshift barricades around the tower, preventing anyone from getting in or out. I shall soon descend upon them like a wrathful storm, exacting my vengeance. They shall rue the day they ever dared to touch or harm those who have my blood.

000

It has been five days since I have seized control of this city. The once powerful noble families have been swiftly dealt with, their lives extinguished without mercy. By this time, my flying ship had completed its voyage to the Wall, carrying the male children of the noble families I had mercifully spared into the waiting custody of the Night Watch.

I have established a court system, one that reeks of retribution and vengeance. Handpicking the most intelligent among the slave population, those who harbor deep-seated resentment, I have tasked them to administer justice. Under the watchful eyes of my loyal soldiers, they preside over the trials, slaves now judging their former Masters. For those who were once free citizens of Qarth, their doom is sealed. Guilty verdicts rain down upon them like a storm, their lives snuffed out without a second thought.

I held all the ships in the harbor captive, their crews trapped without freedom as my men searched their vessels. Any books, maps or papers discovered were swiftly confiscated. Interrogations of the crew began, as I had my men demand answers, eager to uncover the identities and origins of these individuals. Every detail, every piece of information was diligently documented.

However, those who admitted affiliation with cities that shamelessly condoned slavery faced a fate far more severe than mere imprisonment. They were thrust into the unforgiving embrace of the newly formed courts to receive justice. The former slaves would listen to these men and women argue there in case they were almost always found guilty followed by immediate execution. Their ships are now mine. Their ill-gotten gains, their treasures, all confiscated in the name of justice. No trace of their ill deeds would remain, for their wealth would be redistributed to my men as a reward.